Excesses
by Lira is a Girl's Name
Summary: After being cut loose for one night by Casimiro, Finas decides to antagonize Conrad on his own. In the course of their jaunt they stumble upon Ples, and necessitate a visit to the good doctor Worth. Finas POV, slight Conworth, explicit craziness.


AN: This was written for my skype Hannachat, who gave me the characters Finas, Ples, Worth, and Conrad, and suggested I put them into a sexual scenario together for our four Brits to read to everyone. I did it. I'm a Conworth shipper, so that's in here pretty strongly, but I tried to have everyone interacting together. At some point I should maybe excuse that all of my stories have some form of sexual content, usually pretty explicit. Writing this in Finas' point of view was really interesting. And of course Hanna is Not a Boy's Name belongs to Tessa Stone, with no money being made by me and no offense intended.

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EXCESSES

-by: Lira-

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Usually Finas had a easy time deciding what to do with his afterlife. Being in the company of Casimiro meant that decisions were not part of his daily – or rather, nightly – routine. Decades of following Cas' brazen lead meant that when Cas very firmly decided he would be having a night solo, Finas did not put up more than a cursory argument. Oh, he was certain that Cas was having another "straight night," which invariably meant tracking down Adelaide, and almost as invariably meant getting the unliving tar beaten out of him.

In Casimiro's absence, Finas suddenly had a lot of time on his hands.

Feeding without Cas felt like more of a burden than Finas wished to undertake, and thoughts of Adelaide brought him around to their most recent problem. The little wannabe vampire Adelaide had sired against her will. The entire thought was almost enough to get a chuckle out of Finas, and Casimiro knew best just how hard that task was to accomplish. Eternity had made Casimiro whimsical, and time had rubbed that trait off on Finas. What better way to spend his time alone than to pull the failpire along for a night on the town?

Conrad's apartment was a beacon that smelled like Adelaide, in that supernatural manner that was nothing like what little weredogs were prone to using. A wooden door meant that Finas took about two seconds to shoulder it open, the bolt breaking free of its mooring entirely in the process. The noise, as expected, was enough to yank Conrad away from his silly mac computer thing and towards the door and the site of the break-in.

"What... I... That..." Conrad spluttered, rather uselessly. "I hope you're going to pay for that."

Finas glanced back at the door, which he had propped against the opposing wall after the hinges snapped apart. While he might be able to get the money for one little kindling-strength door in under five minutes, that didn't mean he was doing any favors for the little newborn. This whole endeavor was an exercise in futility meant to entertain until Casimiro grew bored with sniffling Adelaide's hair and calling her unflattering pet names.

"No," Finas finally said, when it occurred to him that Cas wasn't going to answer for him. "We're going out."

"We?" Conrad echoed, the disbelief palpable.

"We," Finas confirmed.

He wondered if he had to point out that he could likely snap Conrad in half as easily as he had broken the door.

For a few minutes, they both stood there. Conrad seemed to be somehow immune to the looming menace Finas was used to inducing just by being present, although he guessed it was from sheer stupidity and nothing like courage. Finally Conrad seemed to waver, to consider.

"If this ends in a fight and my glasses being broken, I am not going to be happy," Conrad pointed out. "In fact, I'm not sure how this could possibly end, because every single possibility I think of is bad."

"That's because you're a pessimist," Finas said. "Come. Now we're going to the liquor store."

Getting Conrad to the closest purveyor of alcohol took a bit of man-handling, but seeing as Finas somewhat wished to wring his skinny neck, that was not a problem. Finas had found that it took an extraordinary quantity of alcohol to even have an effect, and was unaware of whether or not Conrad had tried his hand at drunken stupidity yet since the turn.

"I hope you like vodka," Finas said once they were in the store and he was stacking bottles. After a pause to think, he added, "We could get a cherry flavored one for you, or something."

If Conrad didn't like fruity girly drinks, Finas would stop the night right there and, oh, find him a bottle of moonshine. Put some hair on his chest, or whatever the expression might be.

Conrad was tight-lipped, but said nothing.

After purchasing six gallon-sized bottles of vodka and one smaller cherry flavored one, Finas attempted to leave the store. Attempted, because he nearly bowled over a mousy looking fellow all in monochrome. Judging by the red eyes and the slack jaw, this older gentleman did not need to be making another visit to the liquor store. He especially did not need to be making a visit after stumbling, trying to grab onto Finas' arm where the bag of their alcohol was, falling against the wall and nearly braining himself.

Finas was well-fed and did not immediately react to the sharp tang of blood just then bright and vivid in the air, like the color of the man's blood as it trickled sluggishly from a new-formed head wound. Conrad, on the other hand, was surely half-starved, and Finas was certain he was salivating. Perhaps Conrad would not even need the coaxing of a full bottle of vodka to bite into someone and feed. He wouldn't even have to bite – just suck a little at the man's temple, although Finas wouldn't fault him if his little snaggletooth dug into the flesh at the taste of it.

Conrad was salivating and wobbling on his feet and Finas was starting to think he would just fall over without doing anything.

"Bite him," Finas suggested bluntly. "Bite him, and feed."

Conrad's eyes darted back towards him, shifty and nervous and more than just a little bit afraid. It was a look Finas was used to. Finas wanted to grab him behind the neck and push him towards the man, push him and see if his mouth dropped open as the muscles unclenched, force his tongue to make contact with what their kind called sustenance.

"Do it," Finas said, growing impatient.

"I'm terribly sorry," the man said, surprising Finas in that he could speak at all. "Terribly sorry. I... Should be getting home. Did I...?"

The man looked back to the store, the blood from his head starting to drip into his eyes. It seemed he could not even remember if he had been injured before or after visiting the liquor store.

"We should help him," Conrad said nervously. "I don't... I can't... You know that I... That I..."

Finas did know, and he did not approve. He did not _help_ people. Finas and Cas took what they wanted from who they wanted and if someone ended up dead in a dumpster so be it. His hand moved towards Conrad's neck, of its own will, and Conrad sidled away towards the man by the door.

"Get Worth to patch him up afterward!" Conrad burst out. "I'm sure you'll bite him and let him bleed out given the chance, but just... Make sure he doesn't die. It's the least I can do."

Finas felt immediate revulsion over how Conrad could even still feel empathy for one of the living. Starving sucked and it was important to take opportunities such as this when they cropped up. Who would care if there was one less drunk on the streets? But Finas also could tell, with a sneaking suspicion, that Conrad might wish to visit the good doctor for reasons other than those stated. After feeding at the behest of that man for so long, it almost made sense that the newborn would form some kind of attachment.

Finas imagined it was like a human baby bonding with its mother as it drank her milk. Only with less squishy babies and more masochist doctors.

Finas took the bleeding man by the shoulder and bodily moved him around, herding Conrad in front of them at the same time. Fine. The doctor's. Finas did not much care. His only goal was entertainment for the night, and perhaps the joy that would come of watching Conrad actually bite someone. All he – and Cas – really wanted was to corrupt Adelaide's poor child, and everyone knew that it all began with one drop.

It took half-carrying the older man, who was half delirious from alcohol and head wound, but Finas and Conrad reached the abode of the good doctor. Finas really just wanted to snap the man's neck by then, because he absolutely would not cease ticking, even after the three times Finas shook him until his teeth rattled in his skull. By the time they reached the alley, he was happy to shove the clock-man through the door to Worth's so-called office. There was some reward to be felt in watching the man stumble and fall, if only to his knees, and even if it was not the same as biting into the soft flesh of his neck and ripping out the jugular with his teeth.

Worth did not come to the door nearly as promptly as Conrad did.

Finas corrected this by dragging the ticking man across the floor with one hand and shoving Conrad every time he attempted to cease walking and fret. Shoving open the door to the back room produced one doctor, strung out on something or other by the look of him.

"He's high on vicodin!" Conrad exclaimed, at a pitch that might have shattered glasses.

"Is this unusual?" Finas asked, uncertain what the problem was.

"He's not going to be patching anyone up like that," Conrad complained, turning back to Finas in something resembling distress.

"There was a table in the other room." Finas pointed out. "I'll have my dinner while you fret over him."

"You can't," Conrad protested.

Finas grew tired of dragging the ticking man and let him fall to the floor, where he made a few low retching noises without anything coming up.

"I'm going to have my dinner," Finas clarified, "before it throws up on itself."

"I can hear you, you do know," the ticking man pointed out. "And I have a name."

Finas looked down at him in disbelief. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Worth edging towards Conrad, the movement curious. Finas wondered dimly if the man might be having some sort of hallucinations. He also wondered if the man's blood really was so delicious that Conrad could subsist over it alone, and that stale trash found in packets. The ticking man had pulled himself into a seated position by then, using Finas' leg as leverage.

"I don't care what your name is," Finas pointed out slowly. He could feel the fingers of one hand clenching in and out. "I care what your blood type is. I think I'm in the mood for some A negative."

"Ples," the man said, pulling himself upright by Finas' pants. "Ples Tibenoch." He stopped with his nose at the level of Finas' belt buckle. "I reckon I am looking at your crotch."

Finas found himself reckoning that the man was drunk and wounded and dinner, but it seemed pointless to point it out out loud. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the good doctor was bracing himself against Conrad in a manner that meant a lot of arms twining around torsos and one hand attempting to slip into the front of pants. Worth's mouth was attached to Conrad's neck as if he was the vampire, and a vampire with no qualms about feeding. Conrad was making noises reminiscent of a kicked puppy.

"Worth... Worth..." he could hear Conrad protesting, the name coming out reedy and high. "Ahn, stoppit, you know that-"

But he broke off with a moan, low and desperate and Finas was certain the doctor's hand had worked its way far enough into Conrad's pants to be doing something. The ticking man had curled his hands around Finas' belt and was holding on, and Finas wanted to kick him in the guts save for his certainty that doing so would only result in him being sicked up on.

"Does the doc do that to you often?" Finas asked, raising his voice to make sure the little newborn heard him.

He was curious.

"No, I, you see-" Conrad began, before yelping, and Finas canted himself around in time to see the zip on Conrad's pants descending between two twitching fingers. Finas was impressed that Worth could unzip anything considering the quantity of drugs he was doubtlessly on.

"...he just... I... ah, you see... Nghh... Fuck."

Conrad's dick was out of his pants by that point, and as jittery as the good doctor might be, the rapid strokes of his hand seemed to be pleasing Conrad just fine.

Finas decided not to question what aspect of the entire botched situation was giving him an erection. Conrad hadn't drank any blood and they'd acquired one drunk and one drug-addled doctor. Clearly this was a night for the ages. It helped that an unfamiliar man still had his nose in Finas' crotch, and was still ticking an ungodly amount.

It occurred to Finas, for a brief second, that perhaps the ticking man was a bomb. And then he realized that the ticking man – Ples, whatever, he really didn't care – was kind of nuzzling his crotch. He looked down at the man's dark hair, the shocks of white present causing Finas to question just how old this fellow really was, and decided... Why not. If the doctor was clearly dry-humping Conrad from behind while simultaneously palming him in the front, Finas could fuck his dinner and eat it too.

"If we're going to do this," Finas said, addressing Conrad as the only person in the room even halfway approaching intelligent or sentient – at least he was a vampire, "then let's make it interesting."

Conrad's eyes popped open from the glazed look he had been affecting, sheer terror now coloring his expression.

"Not that," Finas said dismissively. Bodily, he moved Ples the short distance to where Conrad was standing.

Finas shoved Ples' head directly at Conrad's dick, catching the back of his collar to keep the man from braining himself against Conrad's bony hip. His hand slid into the man's hair and held him exactly in place.

"If you would like to live past the next five minutes," Finas said, conversationally. "I suggest you start sucking."

Ples' eyes rolled up towards the two vampires, but he seemed to have no trouble believing the threat. He also seemed to have very little trouble with the entire "sucking off a random stranger" arrangement, for his mouth slid open and his eyes slid shut, his hands starting to come upwards despite it being unnecessary. Worth shifted Conrad's dick from where he was standing, Ples' mouth descending on the length to the sound of a low groan out of the vampire.

Finas watched over Ples' shoulder with quiet scrutiny, his hand sliding further into the man's hair and making sure that he did not cease the gentle bobbing of his head, moving like the clockwork that must account for the ticking coming from his person. Ples gave head with precision, each careful movement, just visible swipe of tongue or barely-there scrape of teeth calculated for the reaction it would elicit.

Finas wondered if Ples had met Conrad before, but was far too certain that casual sex was not a routine aspect of Conrad's tortured life.

"Fuck," Finas heard, and to his surprise it was the doctor and not Conrad.

He realized that Worth's hips were still pistoning, as if with complete abandon. Finas found that he wished to choreograph this whole thing to his liking, and that just wouldn't do. He reached around behind Conrad and pulled Worth from the vampire's neck by the fur of his coat, seeing as there wasn't quite enough hair for him to get a good hold on. When the doctor looked up, he made eye contact.

"Not yet," he said. And then, remembering that there was still no Cas and he had to do everything himself. "I think you want to get the pants off first."

Ples' head continued bobbing and Worth's hands moved to Conrad's hips, with Finas just watching and surveying what was happening. He wished he'd brought a camera. Modern day and all of its excesses, machines that could record whatever depravity he and Cas could organize for their later appreciation. Finas hadn't expected anything of the sort. Finas regretted that this could not be exploited for every last drop of enjoyment.

Conrad's pants dropped to his knees and then lower as Worth simply stepped on them and dragged them to the floor in one motion. The good doctor resumed grinding against Conrad's ass, and Finas figured that nothing he could say would get them as far as proper fucking. The doctor was too far gone and Conrad had his dick in someone's mouth. His face was screwed up and he was moaning out between gritted teeth, the sound desperate and needy and raw.

So Conrad wasn't going to last much longer. Neither was the doctor.

This meant Finas needed some fucking lube if he was going to join the party. And preferably something that wasn't going to melt his dick off of his body; Finas trusted the good doctor's office about as far as Conrad's endurance. And Conrad looked as if he would blow a load in less than thirty seconds. Knocking over everything on the desk and dumping out four drawers worth of crap, all before those thirty seconds were up, produced what Finas very much hoped was lotion.

Ples might be in an unfortunate position, but with skill born from long practice, Finas rid the man of his pants.

In the process, Ples drew his head back far enough for Conrad to jerk free, the motion timed just so that Conrad came all over the older male's face. Finas regretted that he had not timed it on purpose. He viewed the result for a moment, one hand on the small of Ples' back and the other holding the lotion, watching as Ples first licked his lips and then raised a hand to wipe his eyes. For such a proper looking gentleman, he took a load to the face surprisingly well. Even being drunk shouldn't account for that.

"If you'd like some lotion," Finas said into the quiet, only Conrad's low panting and Worth's grunting proving audible, "I found some in your desk."

Worth's eyes rolled up slowly, making Finas think it was hardly worth the bother. But one shaky hand rose next, tremors from the drugs not stopping Finas from squirting a large dollop of the stuff into it. The fact that Worth said nothing, just dropped his hand and stroked himself twice, proved to Finas that the stuff was safe to bring into contact with his privates.

Ples toppled forward onto all fours, almost patiently, indicating that he knew what was coming. Again Finas wondered, unused to humans who accepted their fate at his hands, Cas' hands, either of their cocks, with such calm familiarity. Finas had threatened Ples' life, yes, but that was a long while back. Surely by now there should be a protest, especially now that the man's mouth was free. Nothing. Finas almost thought the man was enjoying himself.

The fact that he glanced over his shoulder once, face now completely clean, was not helping Finas' impression. It did not stop him from thrusting one lotion-lubed finger into the man, without any sort of warning. That was enough to earn a quiet gasp, but no more. As if, again, Ples was expecting exactly what was happening. Nothing Finas attempted surprised the man, and he was hearing the ticking louder than ever, so loud he wanted to throttle Ples almost more than he wanted to fuck him.

He settled on both.

Finas had to kneel down to be on-level with Ples, but as he bent and pressed slowly into the man, taking care with his own dead flesh that usually took so much to stir, he could hear Worth's movements without even looking. His thrusts were quick and brutal as Finas took care of himself, but he could hear Conrad trying not to make noise the entire time. Worth was fine grunting and groaning in time with his thrusts, but all of Conrad's noises came from between his teeth, as if he was trying to swallow them back down again. Ples was just as quiet, but he seemed to be so from practice, as if he had trained himself not to make a single sound.

The most audible thing to Finas' ears was the ticking, always the ticking, ever since they had found Ples at the liquor store. His latest theory was that Ples himself was some form of clockwork creation, and that perhaps when Finas was done he could rip out all of Ples' gears from the inside and end it.

Worth came first. Finas had positioned Ples just so that he could watch, for the most part, and Worth's face was really a horror. He already had the bags and the stubble and looked like he would be fun to punch except for the masochist part, but watching those features wrinkle up with what was supposed to be ecstasy was a little like being kicked in the balls. All of Finas' plumbing might not be on all the time, but that still hurt like fuck and he'd break the face if not neck of anyone who tried it.

Conrad was also making a face, but that was likely because Worth had sunk his teeth into the vampire's neck.

Finas continued as the other two finished themselves, going harder relentlessly in the vain hope that he would literally break Ples in half. It didn't work. Finas had no interest in the man's pleasure, making no effort to hit that certain spot in a way that was enjoyed so much. He was completely surprised when the man tensed up around him, limbs and everything going completely rigid. He was shocked to realize that something about all of this had gotten Ples off. It was somewhat gratifying, if bewildering.

And then Finas was coming, fingers digging into Ples' hips as hard as was physically possible, which he knew would guarantee impressive bruises in as little as an hour. And he thought that, just maybe, for just that small period of time, Ples' ticking completely stopped. Either that or the pleasant thundering in his ears drowned it out.

Finas pulled out, discreetly cleaned himself on Ples' pants, and then stood up to fix his clothes. Once he was back to normal, he glanced about at his erstwhile companions. Worth had switched to simply nuzzling at Conrad, making no effort to re-clothe himself. Finas assumed that it was a combination of drugs and a desire to have Conrad sink his little snaggle-tooth fang in the doctor causing the behavior. Conrad put up with it, likely from a combination of orgasm and hunger.

Finas didn't much care about Ples, except for that the man was again ticking and Finas was again driven to homicidal impulses. It was a good thing he'd gotten off; he was never especially hungry after sex and Ples was no longer looking like a good meal. Finas preferred his vintage younger.

"Conrad," Finas said. He was once again perfectly composed, now that the festivities were over. "We are leaving."

Conrad did not even look at Finas right away. Instead he gently rolled his head towards Worth, taking stock of the doctor. Whatever Worth had actually taken, he seemed no worse for wear, and Finas expected that Conrad and Worth would have a round two fairly shortly if he didn't do anything.

"We're leaving," he said again, more impatiently. "I still have six bottles of vodka and Casimiro is busy."

Orgasm also seemed to mean that Conrad was stupid enough to disentangle himself from the good doctor and follow along without much complaint. Finas learned his lesson quickly; as soon as they were out of earshot of the doctor and down the street, Conrad let loose with his tirade.

Finas was just happy to get away from the ticking. Worth could deal with it.


End file.
